An Unexpected Guest in the Queen Mansion
by mjf2468
Summary: Write-up for the Arrow season 2 episode "The Promise" Because something about this episode just begged me to further explore Oliver's thoughts regarding the new threat to all their lives.


Disclosure: Characters and plot not owned by me, just my interpretation. Owned by CW and DC. Just wanted to flesh it out with Oliver's thought processes of this wonderful episode. Dialogue and story idea by Jake Coburn and Ben Sokolowski from the episode "The Promise".

Summary: Write-up for the Arrow season 2 episode "The Promise" Because something about this episode just begged me to further explore Oliver's thoughts regarding the new threat to all their lives.

Oliver entered his family mansion, unable to control his impatience and slammed the door behind him. He had been at the club and gotten a '911' text from Thea, which meant that he was needed at home. The one place where he did not want to be due to the continued strain between him and his mother.

He yelled for his sister as he walked towards the living room, unaware that there was anyone else present. His mother met him instead. "Why are you yelling, Oliver? I have company" she reprimanded him in a low, stern voice.

Moira gave him one of her characteristic steely glares, and motioned for him to follow her into the meticulously decorated living room. "Please act like the courteous young man I know you can be."

As she entered the living room, she stated, "Oliver, I would like you to meet Mr. Slade Wilson."

Oliver, carried by his momentum, swung around the corner and almost got whiplash at suddenly stopping upon hearing the name his mother had just spoken so nonchalantly.

His world suddenly shifted into one thing and one thing only, seeing his sworn enemy alive and well and in his very own family home. Oliver could only look in shock as Slade slowly uncrossed his legs, rose from the elegant armchair, and approached Oliver with his hand held out.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Queen," said the familiar Australian voice, with a note of derision Oliver was certain only he could hear through the pounding of the blood rushing in his ears.

Slade then gripped his hand in a deathly grasp. The clap that resulted echoed throughout the room, and Oliver stifled a grimace as his hand was threatened to be crushed by Slade's supernatural strength. Slade's glance pierced into Oliver like he attempted to see into his soul.

"What.. are… you…doing… here," Oliver barely got out through gritted teeth.

"Mr. Wilson has made a sizable contribution to my mayoral campaign." His mother explained, narrowing her eyes into her characteristic glare, the kind of look that usually would put Oliver in his place. She most likely was puzzled about her son's apparently rude behavior. If only she knew she was in the presence of one of the most deadliest men Oliver had ever known.

It took every bit of self-control Oliver had ever possessed to state in an even tone,

"How generous of him," with a small, forced smile.

In an apparently friendly fashion, Slade looked earnestly at Oliver and stated, "I felt

compelled. It was the least I could do for your mother. She's exactly what this city needs."

Slade then walked to Moira's side and placed a hand on her back. "I find your mother's plans for the city very promising, and I look forward to working with her." Looking into Moira's eyes, he stated, "When I look at your mother, I see someone who, like me, knows how difficult it is to pick yourself up when other people have written you off." He paused for effect then continued. "I feel that we have that in common."

His mother gave her son a condescending look, "Indeed." She no doubt was thinking of how her son was not forgiving her for lying to her family about his sister's true father.

As his mortal enemy and his mother shared a smile, Oliver felt something deep inside him clench so hard he almost had to remind himself to breathe. Caught off-guard, Oliver was unaware that Slade had taken a step towards him again when he heard Slade say in a slightly softer voice, "What's wrong, Mr. Queen? You look a little piqued."

"I'm fine, thank you." was said in a short, clipped tone.

Oliver's thoughts were interrupted with the clatter of a tray being brought in by one of the maids. Oliver's eyes were drawn to a bottle with the familiar logo of the Australian rum that he, Slade and Sara had toasted their friendship before that last mission on the island. The mission that had changed everything.

"Oliver, Mr. Wilson was kind enough to bring a bottle of Australian rum. Will you join us?"

Oliver nodded. His mother poured three glasses and handed one to each of the men. "What shall we drink to?" Oliver numbly heard his mother ask.

"Shall we drink….to friendship," rolled off Slade's tongue like silk.

Under hooded eyelids, Oliver watched Slade take a sip, and then allowed himself to also take a sip. He allowed the brief thought to cross his mind how surreal this was, before the fear rose up again within him and he had to quickly tamp it.

"Delicious," his mother said, in her cool, refined voice designed to compliment her guest.

Slade turned and walked over to the model of the 1800's ship that his father had made, and lightly touched it, as if he was admiring the beauty of it. " This is a beautiful piece. Does your family spend much time on the water?"

As if you did not know, Oliver thought silently, willing his body to relax yet again.

"No, not since my late husband…." his mother began.

"My apologies, Moira. I now remember reading about the accident in the paper that left you a widow." Turning his cool gaze towards Oliver, he said, "You were a brave soul. All that time on the island, it must have been hell for you."

Oliver could hear the mockery in those words, and swallowed deeply. Memories of being on that same island with Slade flashed through Oliver's mind unbidden, memories including that of Slade and Oliver fighting against their common enemies, Slade torturing Oliver after their "brotherhood" was called off, Oliver and Slade fighting to the death

"I do not like to talk about it."

His mother, pretending to not notice the tension between the two men, invited Slade to join her on the loveseat at the other end of the room. Oliver deliberately walked over to the couch across from the loveseat and took a seat as well. Leaning forward, his arms resting on his upper legs, Oliver watched Slade and his mother continue with their conversation.

Moira then began to share some stories about Thea and her experiences with water, and Oliver allowed himself to study Slade during this interaction with his mother. He was doing the "suave thing" that he had once bragged to Oliver about, laughing appropriately with his mother at her humorous anecdotes, leaning in oh so subtly to indicate his interest, and maddeningly appeared to take every opportunity to touch his mother for one reason or another. It did strike Oliver as slightly odd that his mother was allowing all of these invasions into her personal space, because she often was not a very demonstrative person.

All of a sudden, his mother changed the subject and asked, "So, Mr. Wilson, are you married? Do you have children?"

Oliver silently braced himself so that he would not react to what he knew Slade would say regarding having a family. He found himself questioning how long this ordeal would last, his attempting not to react to every single statement coming out of Slade's mouth. He was amazed at the ability of the man to infuse such hidden, threatening meaning to every word he said. He wondered if he and his mother would survive this meeting, for he really did not know what Slade had in mind for them in the next moments, if not the next hour.

"Sadly, neither." Oliver briefly puzzled about why Slade would lie about this to his mother, for both Oliver and Slade knew Slade had told him about his children while on the island.

"Well, there must be someone special in your life," his mother asked, in a slightly flirtatious manner.

"There was, but she passed away several years ago," and this time Slade unflinchingly looked at Oliver, bringing to Oliver's mind Shado, the woman behind the reason for the revenge-fueled hatred Slade apparently still held for Oliver.

As his mother murmured condolences, Oliver met Slade's gaze unflinchingly, took a breathe and stated, "My mother and I have had to deal with a lot of loss, unfortunately, and eventually we have learned that you just have to _**move on**_." His eyes bored into Slade's, daring him to drop the unspoken challenge.

"I don't believe that," Slade stated, rising from the love seat and straightening his suit jacket. He then walked around the couch Oliver was sitting on and stopped to look at the masterpiece above the fireplace. "Moira, I have heard your family has an affinity for the fine arts."

"My husband, in his lifetime, amassed quite the collection of 19th century American landscapes."

"I'd love to see them," Slade said with a gentle smile.

As Moira rose from the loveseat and started towards Slade, Oliver rose quickly and stated, "Maybe another day. My mother and I have some family business," Oliver turned and looked at his mother in an attempt to communicate the importance of his words, "we have to discuss _**right now**__." _Oliver silently pleaded with his mother to listen to him without argument and show their guest out.

Her mother glared at him, and turned her gaze towards Slade, "You must excuse my son. He seems to have forgotten _**all**_ of his manners. I will notify the staff to open up the rest of the mansion." Head held high, his mother left the room in her usual regal manner.

Quickly seeing the opportunity, Oliver in a graceful movement quickly picked up the ice chipper he had palmed earlier from the cocktail tray, moved towards Slade in one movement, and raised his arm to impale the chipper into Slade's heart. However, he was met with Slade's hand gripping his wrist in a painful grasp and was forced to drop the potential weapon.

"Not yet, kid. I've yet to meet the rest of your family," Oliver heard over the pounding of his heart and the entrance of his vivacious sister entering the mansion. Oliver had to swallow the bile that rose in his throat as Slade let go of the death grip on Oliver's wrist. Slade raised an eyebrow and looked towards the door.

"Hey Ollie, Mom, where is everyone?" The lilting voice of his dearly beloved little sister floated towards them from the entrance. Thea made her characteristic entrance, full of life and promise, into the study. "Hey, Ollie, have you and Mom talked yet because this whole non-talking thing…." As the two men turned to welcome the arrival, Oliver slid his foot over the abandoned ice chipper on the floor.

Oliver interrupted her in an attempted light-hearted voice, "This is not the time, Thea."

Thea stopped herself in mid-momentum, and looked between Oliver and Slade. "Oh, who is your friend?" she asked, bouncing on her toes.

Slade approached his little sister, charm oozing out of him, raised her hand to his lips and introduced himself. "I have heard such wonderful things about you from your mother."

As a slight blush colored her cheeks, Thea coquettishly murmured something about her mother exaggerating. Her mother chose that moment to return, stating, "Oh good, Thea. You are just in time. Mr. Wilson, this is my daughter Thea."

Unable to stop himself, Oliver murmured coldly, "They have already met," Slade slowly lowered Thea's hand as Thea simultaneously pulled it from his grasp.

Moira continued as if Oliver had not interrupted her. Turning to Thea, she stated, "Thea, Mr. Wilson wants to see our art collection, and you are the perfect guide."

Moira extended her arm out and indicated Slade to precede her out of the study and down the hall. Slade offered Thea his arm, which she took, and Oliver felt a shiver down his spine as Slade patted it. As he watched Slade, Oliver then bent down quickly and again palmed the ice chipper and slid it into his pocket. Even though it had failed the first time, Oliver did not want to leave any possible weapon behind. He then followed the three down the hallway

"I was enthralled with art my senior year. Imagine my mortification when my art instructor wanted to bring my entire class here for a tour," Thea explained to Slade.

"You are a lucky girl to have known such privilege, and I am fortunate to have your entire family here," Slade stated, as he put his arms around both Queen women as they walked down the hallway toward the first picture. His words sent yet another chill down Oliver's spine at another implied threat.

His attention only partially upon Thea's art lecture, Oliver continued to observe every action of Slade's. Slade appeared indifferent to Oliver's vigilant observation. Instead, he continued to charm, at every chance, his mother and sister, drawing them subtly into his web. Despite Oliver's observation, Slade did not indicate at any time any overt sign of malevolence, of any sort of threat. He appeared as innocuous as a person could be, not giving Oliver any excuse to march him right out of his family's home right then and there, even though that was exactly what Oliver wanted to do.

His mind whirling, considering again every possibility and end-game, Oliver could not come up with any answers. Slade continued to ask Thea questions, and approached some of the paintings and caressed them lovingly as he mentioned his love for the arts. His dulcet tones continued to send shivers down Oliver's spine.

In what seemed ridiculously long, an idea finally crossed his mind. Oliver remembered that the gang were to meet at the foundry, including Sara, who would recognize the voice of their dreaded mutual enemy and would rally the others. Oliver was not sure whether a full frontal assault would be needed, but when it came to his family Oliver did not want to take any chances. He took out his phone, scrolled past Diggle's number and selected Felicity's number instead. He was hoping that Felicity would think he butt-dialed by mistake and put it on speaker, for fun, giving Sara the opportunity to recognize the immediate danger he and his family were currently in. Diggle, otherwise, would have just hung up without further thought.

Oliver's attention was called back to the conversation by Thea asking, "Don't you agree, Oliver?"

Oliver looked up to see which painting they were discussing. "Yes, that was indeed Father's favorite."

Slade's dulcet tones floated through his thoughts, "Then you must never sell it. I believe when you lose someone you love, you have the obligation to honor their memory."

Inwardly, Oliver sighed. This cat-and-mouse game was getting old. He knew Slade was again referring to Shado.

For another fifteen minutes, Oliver followed the group as Thea continued the tour of his father's art treasures. His agile mind continued to run down any possible end-game that Slade might have in play, but none of them did not seem to match up with Slade's actions this evening.

"Thank you again, Thea, for such a wonderful and insightful tour. You were a remarkable guide," Slade complimented his sister as Thea turned a slight shade of pink again at the supposedly high praise. Thea then asked him, "If I may ask, which one was your favorite?"

"I found 'The Promise' to be particularly compelling," came the reply. In spite of himself, Oliver felt a shiver go down his spine at those seemingly innocent words.

Suddenly, Roy's voice called out towards them, "Thea, are you home?" Roy then appeared around the corner and approached the group.

Thea stepped towards him. "Roy, I thought I was meeting you at Verdant."

"Oh…yeah," Roy, then shot a nervous glance at Oliver, standing apart from the group, and nodded. Oliver gave a slight nod as well, his body not relaxing a bit, but in his mind gave a small sigh of relief. He was not happy with Roy's approach, but was slightly relieved to know that reinforcements had now arrived. Finally.

Roy approached Slade and held out his hand. Slade took it as Roy stated, "I'm Roy Harper."

"Slade Wilson. That is a particularly firm handshake you have there, son."

"Yeah, yours too." Roy met Slade's calculating gaze head-on, even though he was trembling inside. For this man to have shaken Sara to her toes, when she had heard it over the telephone in the foundry, he must be quite the threat, Roy thought. Oliver appeared to be quite shaken as well, and that did not ease Roy's mind.

Oliver then saw Sara at the top of the staircase, taking in the scene. Oliver assumed she had entered the mansion by a second floor window. Sara caught Oliver's glance, and he shook his head slightly at the sight of the knife in her hand. Sara resheathed the knife and stated, "There you are, Ollie," in a falsely bright tone. She looked down at Slade, and had a moment of satisfaction when she noticed Slade look up at her with look of shock, which then disappeared as quickly as it had appeared.

"Oh, Sara, we did not see you come in," his mother stated in a cultured tone, as polite as always, as Sara bounded down the stairs and took her place next to Oliver.

"I didn't want to interrupt the tour." Sara looked Slade directly in the eye, with a challenge in her eyes.

"Mr., Wilson, this is our friend Sara Lance," his mother, always the perfect host, continued to make introductions without indicating any question regarding the influx of guests into her home at such a late hour.

"You are the girl who came back from the dead," was Slade's reply.

"We are just glad to have her home," Oliver said in a well-controlled tone, in response to the veiled threat.

"I can see that. I mean it's hard to find that special someone who means everything to you. You were very lucky."

Suddenly, Oliver was just tired of whatever cat-and-mouse game Slade was under the illusion they were playing. He allowed an amused light into his eyes as he smiled a tight-lipped smile. "So, what would you like to do now, Mr. Wilson?" He felt a small amount of comfort having his team present, but remained vigilant against any possible threat the man beside him may make.

Slade met Oliver's gaze without flinching, then looked at Sara, who continued to look at Slade with determination in her eyes, and then turned to look at Roy, who stood as tall as he could in an attempt to look threatening. "Well, I hate to break up the party, but I think I should be going."

Slade then walked towards Moira and took her hands. "I look forward to seeing more of you,, Moira, and your lovely family," looking back at Sara and Oliver. As Moira placed her arm around Slade and walked him toward the door, Sara leaned into Oliver and whispered, "Digs got a shot lined up outside."

Oliver took a step forward and called out, "Mr. Wilson, may I walk you to your car?" His mother and Slade turned to look at him, and Oliver closed the distance between them at the door.

The two men left the house in silence. When they had reached the driveway, Oliver stated in a flat tone, as they walked to the car, "Cyrus Gold, the men in the skull mask, that was all you. They worked for you."

The men walked several steps and then Slade replied, "I have my allies. Just as you have yours." Two more steps. "Like John Diggle, for example." One step. "You are probably wondering why he hasn't taken his head shot yet." As Slade paused for effect, Oliver stopped walking and stared at Slade as he continued toward the car. "He is still alive. For now," Slade said, purposely not turning around to face Oliver.

By this time, they had reached Slade's car. Oliver grabbed Slade's arm and murmured, "Slade. What do you _**want**_?"

Slade straightened himself and scoffed. He then elegantly shook Oliver's arm off and got into his car nonchalantly and closed the door. The window slid open, and he leaned out slightly. "Five years ago I made you a promise. Do you remember?"

The nod Oliver gave was minuscule, but noted by his enemy, who continued, "Well, I'm here to fulfill it." Slade turned the ignition, and stated, "I'll see you around, kid."

Oliver watched the car as it disappeared from his family estate as Slade's words from the past echoed through his memory. "You cannot die until you have suffered the same way I have suffered. Until you have known complete despair. And you will, I promise."

AN; Hope you enjoyed this story. Please leave a review with any constructive criticism, to help improve my writing. It is greatly appreciated!


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